Crash
by DeniseV
Summary: Starsky and Hutch are in a serious accident in the tomato. If only the recovery were as simple as fake amnesia.


We were speeding down the highway in pursuit of the suspects in a liquor store robbery that had left the store owner and a customer dead. We were in the midst of an early summer cold snap that had brought with it a persistent, light rain. Everything was soaked, and the roads were slick.

These suspects did not seem to care about the danger they were putting themselves in or the other drivers on the roads; or us, for that matter. Starsky is a very good offensive driver, defensive too, but in this weather even the worst things can happen to the best of drivers.

We were a few car lengths behind the suspects' blue Cadillac when they lost control of the car and began to spin out of control. The spin slowed their car down fast, and Starsky was unable to avoid hitting them. Their car whipped into the left front bumper of the Torino, hitting hard and driving the tomato into a dangerous spin. Starsky had no control over the car due to the combined bad luck of the rain, getting hit by the Cadillac, the high speed, and the highways always being slightly slick with oil.

We were finishing up our first 360 when Starsky realized that the best bet for getting out of this would be to let the car go. It appeared to be veering to the side of the road, which butted up against a high grassy hill. He let the car spin through the second 360, and then at about 180 of the third spin the car slammed hard into the hill. We were lucky that the car didn't tip over based on the angle that it hit. We were still moving at a pretty fast clip. Starsky had let the wheel go during the height of the spinning, and he had slammed his shoulder pretty hard into his door. I was holding on tight to the door handle and hadn't been jostled too badly.

Starsky took control of the wheel again as the car headed dangerously back in to traffic. I had lost sight of what happened to the suspects' car at this point; I was far more concerned now about living through this. Starsky looked out the window to see what traffic he was going to hit – there was no doubt that we were going to hit something. He tried to turn the wheel to get out of the way of an approaching pick-up truck, but he still hadn't regained control and the truck slammed into Starsky's door, shattering the glass and throwing shards in to the car. My partner saw that coming and was able to lift his already beat up shoulder and arm enough to keep the glass from hitting him in the face. It was a reaction that, if you had seen it coming, you would have reacted the same way.

Unfortunately, that action probably helped to keep the car moving at a fast speed into the grassy median. Both the pick-up and the Torino were now barreling through the median and nearing oncoming traffic. The grass slowed the car slightly, and Starsky seemed to now have some control of the car. But the breaks weren't working, and he could see that we were heading for a disaster if the car continued in to the southbound lanes. In order to try to get the car to stop, Starsky turned the wheel sharply, which almost produced the desired effect. It slowed the car a good deal. Unfortunately, it also put his side of the car in harm's way, and as we crossed into traffic, we got hit again, not quite as hard, as the sedan that hit us was trying desperately to avoid the accident. The car sideswiped Starsky's door heavily and Starsky's head whipped right, towards me, and then whipped left and slammed in to the door. And then, finally, the car came to a stop.

My head was spinning. Starsky and I have been in any number of accidents together; one fateful one comes to mind as the worst before this event. We both survived that, although my partner's trust in me was shaken slightly by the foolish prank I pulled. But that experience pales in comparison to what happened here. This was a terrifying experience; with the startling realization that the event was over within just ten seconds - but it seemed like a lifetime. My whole body was shaking, and my heart was pounding. But I was in one piece. And more than anything I needed to talk to my partner.

I looked to my left and was sick at what I saw. Starsky was unconscious, that was obvious. And he had a lot of blood on his face. I climbed across the seat and reached to check his pulse. It was steady, and pretty strong. But he was out, and that was not good.

"Starsk? Starsky, can ya wake up for me, buddy?" I gently touched the area on his head that slammed into the door. I hoped his injury wasn't as bad as it looked. It's so hard to tell with head injuries. They bleed profusely, and it can mislead you in to thinking that things are worse than they are. I actually didn't think that was the case this time. Starsky had been thrown around a lot, and it was very likely that he hit hard enough to have suffered some serious damage.

He wasn't coming to, and I didn't want to move him because of the possible neck injuries he may have suffered. I decided the best thing right then was to call in for help.

"Zebra three to control. We've been in an accident on Route 5 southbound, just north of Route 605. Officer down. The car we were pursuing may have crashed in the northbound lanes. I need an ambulance now! May need several. It's a mess out here." Control responded that black and whites and an ambulance were on their way. I dropped the mike and went back to attend to my partner.

I checked Starsky's pulse again. It still seemed okay, and his breathing seemed all right, too. I grabbed some napkins left over from our rushed lunch and dabbed at the worst of the blood on his left temple. I didn't have anywhere near enough napkins to make a difference, and as I wiped away the blood, more oozed out each time. I decided to just press hard against the wound, and the pain from the pressure seemed to bring Starsky back. He groaned, and raised his right hand to grab for his head. I thought this could not be good, because he would have normally grabbed for that side of his head with his left hand. That meant that whatever damage he sustained to his arm was debilitating, for now. Or worse, the injury to his head was causing him problems with his motor skills.

I stopped his hand, holding it tight and said, "Hey, how's it going?" He hadn't opened his eyes yet, and he was still just giving me moaning sounds. "Starsk, can you hear me?" His eyes started to flutter open, and he tried to move. I took both of my hands and pressed firmly against his chest. "No, partner, you can't move yet. Starsk, are you hearing me?"

I finally saw some blue peeking through those weary lids. He looked straight into my eyes and seemed to smile slightly. I took a good look, because I didn't think he seemed like he was going to stay with me for long. His eyes looked strange, really dilated, the left eye more dilated than the right. And that's all I got before he closed his eyes again. I didn't like this, but I was not really able to do much for him. I could have gotten the first-aid kit from the trunk, but it really didn't contain anything that was going help much; I decided staying with my partner was more important.

Pretty quickly an ambulance appeared. Two uniformed units also showed, and while the paramedics worked on my partner under my intent gaze, I gave Edwards and Feuer a rundown of what went down. They said the same thing I'd been thinking – you're lucky you weren't killed instantly.

The paramedics had the collar on Starsky and an IV started and were ready to roll, so I excused myself from Edwards; Feuer had gone over to inspect the car. The Torino wasn't totaled, but it was close. My partner would have called it a disaster. It's funny how differently we look at things sometimes; a wrecked car wasn't even on my meter for disaster.

I rode to the hospital with my partner. He was unconscious again, but the paramedics said he was stable. It was eerily quiet in the ambulance – it reminded me of the last time Starsky was unconscious and I rode with him to the hospital - that fateful day when James Marshall Gunther's hit men tried to kill my partner.

They took Starsky in to an examination room and took me to the waiting room. I sat down. Somebody threw a blanket over my shoulders. I rested my elbows on my knees and held my head in my hands. Oh God. What is it about us? We must be cursed. Starsky was definitely cursed. His body had withstood more trauma than any body should be able to survive.

I don't know how long I sat there like that. It felt like hours, but was probably only about twenty minutes before Captain Dobey came to sit next to me.

"Have you heard anything?" He asked, looking tired and soaked.

"No…he hit his head hard…he didn't look good…I don't think he really ever was fully conscious once he hit his head…he might have fractured his skull…or worse…I think he recognized me, I'm not sure…" Dobey stopped my rambling.

"Hutch, why don't we not speculate and wait for the experts to come out and talk to us?" I guess I was sounding pretty incoherent. I know I was feeling disconnected. I really didn't think I could go through this again.

We waited another half an hour before a nurse came out. "You gentlemen are here for Detective Starsky?"

I virtually jumped out of the chair and stood in front of her. "Yes, how is he?" She seemed to jump back just a bit; I don't know if that was real or imagined. I didn't care.

"The doctor sent me out to tell you he would be out in about fifteen minutes to talk to you. I'm sorry I can't tell you anything more. Please sit. Dr. Peterson will be out shortly.

I was so afraid. Head injuries can be so complicated. We learned that the hard way with Terry. Of course, her circumstances were unique, but we had done so much research to see if there was anything that could be done for her that we felt we were experts on head and brain injuries. I kept going through in my mind all the possibilities, from swelling of the brain to subdural hematomas to skull fractures to ischemia. I hoped that the worst that happened was a contusion, although even some of those could be quite serious. Actually, what I wanted was for Starsky to walk through that door with a bandage on his head and some extra strength Tylenol in his hand.

I heard the doors open for the exam rooms, and then heard the footsteps coming our way. My anxiety at what I was about to hear was threatening to suffocate me. I looked up and everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion. And everything looked larger than it should. I know my mind was playing tricks on me. I might have been experiencing some side effects of shock. But I also knew there was something else.

I know I've had trouble since the shooting easing up on my over-protective leanings where my partner is concerned. I've worked hard to quash those feelings. I know Starsk would say that I still need to work on it, but I think I had made headway. I would qualify today as a severe setback.

"Detective Hutchinson, I'm Dr. Mark Peterson. I've been treating your partner." I shook his hand. I introduced him to Dobey as I sized him up. He seemed serious, but not dire in his demeanor. But I think it was too early to let my guard down.

"How is he?" Dobey asked before I could get the words out.

"Stable. Let's sit." We walked to the chairs and sat down.

"Has he regained consciousness?" I knew there was a concern with head injuries when the victim didn't regain consciousness within a reasonable period of time. Plus, there was no way to really gauge the severity of the injury if the patient was not awake to take some tests.

"No he hasn't, but that's not completely unexpected with trauma like this. We performed a CT scan and have found a small mass lesion on his brain. This was most certainly caused by the trauma he suffered in the accident. We're not too concerned about that right now, but we will keep a close eye on it. His blood pressure is a little low, so we are monitoring him carefully for possible ischemia. That's an insufficient supply of blood to the brain. As I said, the lesion is not too severe and we're only monitoring for ischemia. The larger concern is the dilation of the left eye, which is the side on which Detective Starsky was hit. This dilation is an indicator of intracranial pressure. This could be very dangerous. If his eye does not begin to dilate in a more normal fashion, then we may need to perform surgery to relieve the pressure."

Surgery. Brain surgery. Okay. Okay. I must have zoned out, because I heard Dobey say, "Ken, are you alright? Do you need a drink of water?" Then I felt a hand on my wrist. It was Dr. Peterson checking me out.

"I'm fine, I'm okay. Um, what happens next?" I wasn't sure what everything Dr. Peterson said meant for the next while, and I wondered when we would know that Starsky was out of the woods in regard to any of this.

"Well, a lot of things can happen. But, if his lesion does not get larger within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and we can keep his blood pressure a little high to offset the possibility of ischemia and the drugs help with the intracranial pressure, then he should be ready to go home in a few days. We'll need to do some tests, check his eye reaction, motor skills, verbal skills, but so long as we see no deterioration, then he should be home soon. We're going to move him to ICU in a few minutes, then you can go up and see him for awhile."

"Wh-when do you think he'll regain consciousness?" I was starting to feel so terribly exhausted, as if I could only hold it together until I heard that Starsky would be all right. I hadn't heard what I wanted, but my body was opportunistic in this regard, definitely ready to take over where my mind and heart were still reeling from the news.

"We don't know. You can sit with him as long as you like. And talk to him. I'm a firm believer that the brain can sense the presence of others. It may not absorb everything it hears, but I have seen the results. I have seen people come out of comas, or deep unconscious states like your partner with no other explanation. Give us a few minutes and we'll have him settled." Dr. Peterson walked away.

I turned to look at Dobey. He seemed as dazed as I was. "Hutch, I want you to spend some time here, but then I want you to go home and get some rest."

"No. I'll stay here. I'm staying here until he wakes up." Dobey was concerned for my welfare - I understood that. But he also knew that I couldn't leave.

"Okay. I'll send someone to your house for a change of clothes. Maybe you can get something to eat now, and a shower later after you've spent some time with Starsky. Don't forget, you have to stay strong for your partner." He was right. I had learned this after the Gunther shooting. I hoped that we weren't going to face a recovery like that again.

We went to the cafeteria and grabbed a sandwich. I wasn't that hungry but ate anyway. We finished quickly. Dobey headed back to headquarters and I went to see Starsky in ICU.

I walked in and set a chair up close to the bed, close enough to see his face and hold his hand. I sat on the right side, as his left arm was heavily wrapped. Dr. Peterson had said that Starsky had suffered a crack, or small fracture, in his upper arm. He would need a splint-like cast for about six weeks. That meant some desk duty, for sure. He wasn't going to like that.

I took hold of his right hand and held it tight. I couldn't believe we were here again. I didn't know what I was going to talk about, when I just started. "Hey, Starsk, I know what you did and I want to thank you for it. I know you swerved the tomato so that you would get the worst of it this time. I wish you hadn't done that. I survived last time; I would have done okay this time, too. But, I hope it makes you feel better that I came out okay, not even a scratch. You did good, buddy."

I watched him breathe. He seemed like he was just sleeping. He was hooked up to monitors, but he wasn't on a ventilator or any other equipment. He looked peaceful. I hoped that he felt that way.

"Hey, Starsk, are you gonna sleep all night? I was really hoping to get a chance to talk about what we're going to do this weekend. I thought maybe we'd start the weekend off right with some burgers and beer and pool over at Huggy's. We haven't seen Hug socially in a while. Do you think he has a new bartender? Remember the last time we were there, and Jenny started throwing shot glasses at him? I wonder how long she lasted? Or maybe they patched things up." I actually laughed at the memory. It was getting close to closing time and much of the crowd had left. We heard the first glass crash into the wall before we realized what was happening. Apparently Jenny had quite the temper, and Hug had said something about her attitude with the customers and she returned with, "How's this for attitude, buster!" and started hurling the glasses at his head. And she had pretty good aim, too. We had to break it up before she actually connected with one of them; we would have had to bust her for assault.

I looked at Starsky. Still no change. It was hard to watch him here in this condition. Starsky loved to sleep, and it looked like that was what he was doing. I was feeling a little strange about talking to him, but my brain recognized something that my heart didn't - it was more important to get him to come out of this; I had to keep reminding myself that he wasn't really asleep.

Watching him here reminded me of a recent stakeout we worked with Simmons and Babcock. "Hey Starsk, remember that stakeout with Simmons and Babcock. You remember, that guy who kept exposing himself to old ladies and little kids? You remember you had gotten no sleep the night before, of your own choice, I might add. You were exhausted and fell asleep where you were supposed to be on lookout." Starsky and Babcock were hiding out in bushes around the general areas where this guy had been reported. Simmons was dressed as a homeless man, and I was just a tourist walking through the park, instamatic around my neck.

I was walking down the path toward Starsky's hiding place, when I spotted a guy in a trench coat hovering over my partner, coat opened wide. I walked over slowly to find the guy exposing himself to my sleeping partner. The guy didn't notice me; he was drunk as a skunk as well as naked under his coat. I knelt down and grabbed a couple of pebbles and tossed them at Starsky's face. The first couple hit the mark but didn't rouse my partner. The third one did the trick. Starsky opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times, and then focused on the, um, subject in front of him. I never saw him wriggle and squirm out from under anything so fast in my life. He grabbed for his gun, aimed it at the guy and said, "Fella, you are under arrest." And then his whole body shook, as if shaking off his disgust. It was pretty hilarious. He made me swear to never tell anyone about it. And, of course, the whole squad room knew about it by the next morning.

I had been sitting, talking to Starsky now for a few hours. I didn't want to let go of his hand, but my back was feeling a little sore. I'd gotten tossed a bit in the accident and between that and sitting so long I was definitely starting to feel it. I started to let go of his hand, but felt him grip harder. I looked at his hand and I squeezed it. And again, he held mine tighter.

"Starsk, Starsky, are you waking up for me? Come on buddy. Come on back." I thought I saw his eyes move under his eyelids. I pressed the call button, just in case he was coming to. "Starsky, can you open your eyes for me?" A nurse came in just then and said, "Is he coming to?" I said, "I-I'm not sure. He's been gripping my hand, and his eyes seem to be moving. He hasn't opened them yet, though." She said, "I'll go get Dr. Peterson."

He was still squeezing my hand occasionally. "Hey buddy, I know you're there. Don't ya want to wake up? You must be feeling a little hungry by now. Can't eat if you don't wake up." Food was usually a successful lure to get my partner going.

His eyes began to flutter open. Dr. Peterson walked in and noticed immediately. "Ah, this is good." He leaned over Starsky from the other side of the bed. "David." He spoke loud and firm. I had been using my normal tone of voice. The doctor noticed me flinch a little at the volume he used. "Sometimes it just takes a little more firm approach to get them to wake up."

He was blinking pretty rapidly now, and a soft moan emanated from him. And he squeezed my hand again. "Dr. Peterson, he's been squeezing my hand, quite a lot. Is he trying to say something?"

"Might be. He might be in some pain, or he might just be trying to tell you that he's okay. Or that he's glad you're okay." He went back to direct his comments to his patient. "David, wake up. I know you want to." Starsky finally opened his eyes. The doctor checked his eyes and said, "Very good, David. Good to see you. How are you feeling?"

Starsky started to speak. Well, he tried to, but nothing seemed to be coming out. The doctor said, "His throat is probably pretty dry. Let's get him some water." The nurse leaned toward the pitcher, but I got to it before she did and had the water poured in a flash. I leaned over the rail of the bed and put the cup to his mouth. "Hey, buddy, take a sip. It'll make your throat feel better." He took a sip, and then choked a little and nodded slightly that he'd had enough. We only had to wait another few seconds before he tried again.

"How long have I been out?" He said. We could just barely hear him, his voice a tired, scratchy whisper.

"David, I need to evaluate you now. We'll get to your question in a few minutes. Detective Hutchinson, I'm going to have to ask you to leave while we do this evaluation. It'll take about twenty minutes. We'll get you back in here as soon as we can."

I knew I had to leave, but I didn't want to leave him alone. In my head he would be alone. I leaned down as near as I could and held his hand again. "I'm going to be just outside. You call me if you need me, okay?" He nodded. I know I had tears in my eyes, and I think that didn't help him because he seemed to get a little teary-eyed himself. "I saw you." He croaked softly. I smiled, and one of my tears fell to the sheet below. He was talking about in the car. I put my left hand over his hand, which was still clasped in mine. I grasped tightly, and he returned the firm hold, and then we both let go.

I quickly phoned Dobey to let him know that Starsky was awake.

"That's great news, Hutch. Tell him that Edith and I are thinking of him. And I'll be in to see him later in the evening." Dobey sounded so relieved, no doubt similar to the way I sounded when I told him.

"They're giving him some tests now to measure for any problems. They're going to be with him for a while. They kicked me out of the room." I know I probably sounded like a kid, but I wanted back in that room.

"They'll let you back in as soon as they're done. I'll see you there later?" It was a question.

"Yep. See you later." I hung up and then took up my place just outside the door. The ICU nurses glared at me, but they did not make me leave.

Dr. Peterson came out at just about twenty minutes. "Detective Hutchinson. I have only good news so far." My relief was overwhelming. "Let's go sit for a minute." I'm sure I looked like I needed to sit.

"I checked his pupils. As you know, we were concerned because his pupils were overly dilated, particularly the left one. The pressure in his brain has eased and we're seeing a marked improvement here. That is very, very good. We're going to keep his blood pressure a little high for the rest of the day. That's to prevent ischemia. We're going to take him down for another CT scan to check the lesion as well."

"I ran some basic tests to check for eye movement, motor movement and verbal skill. He passed all with flying colors. I think David is going to be fine. He'll be here for at least a few more days so that we can be sure everything stabilizes okay. He does have a headache, a whopper, but we'll try to help him there. And when he goes home he really should take it easy for a few weeks. Fortunately, he won't be able to go back on duty, even desk duty, for that long because of his arm. Any questions?"

"Can I go see him now? Can he have other visitors?" I was thinking if they kept him in ICU that I might want to let Dobey off the hook for coming to see Starsky tonight.

"He'll be in ICU tonight. We'll probably move him to a regular room in the morning. He's sleepy. That's due to the trauma. He'll probably be in and out of sleep through morning. We really can't give him anything yet for pain. We'll be doing regular checks, waking him up often to run through similar tests that we just did. He's sleepy now, but by tomorrow morning he'll probably be exhausted. So don't expect him to be too alert. It would be best right now that he sleep as much as possible, so if we could keep visitors to a minimum that would be best. Are you planning on staying the night?" I looked at him quizzically, and he responded, "I heard about you guys from some of the trauma staff over at Memorial. You won't be comfortable here. We don't have the room for rolling in extra beds into ICU that Memorial has. And as you can see, we're pretty full up here right now."

"I need a chair and a pillow. I'll be fine. I'd like to stay with him, at least for tonight." I know Starsky was probably going to sleep most of the time, but I also knew that we had a special connection and that he needed me to be here with him. I probably needed it more.

"Okay. But you need to sleep. We'll get you two chairs, so you can put your feet up. Falling asleep sitting up, especially in a hospital, is virtually impossible. If you find you can't fall asleep, I'll leave some sleeping pills for you at the nurse's station. I'll be on call tonight, but Dr. Barron is working tonight. Your partner will be in good hands. See you tomorrow."

"Good night doctor. And thanks." I smiled and Dr. Peterson smiled back. I think he was feeling relieved that things turned out the way they did. I headed back in to see my partner.

He looked like he was sleeping. I sat in the chair again, and put my hand under his. The slight movement stirred him from his rest. He had clearly not really been asleep.

"Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping. Close your eyes and go to sleep." He looked really tired.

"Nah. Wanted to see you first. Anybody else get hurt?" That was just like my best friend – to be concerned for other people's welfare above his own.

"No. Everybody came out pretty unscathed but you." Dobey had informed me that the suspects in the liquor store robbery had indeed crashed their car, and were attempting to flee when the drivers of two other cars jumped out and hauled them both to the ground and sat on them until the police arrived. They sat on them in the rain. It goes to prove that there actually are concerned citizens out there.

"How's my car?" Oh God.

"Well, it's not good. But I didn't stay to inspect it, either, so maybe it's not as bad as it looks. Sort of the way your injuries turned out." He was having a hell of a time keeping his eyes open at this point.

"Doc said I'd be outta action for awhile." His eyes were closed now. I think he was continuing on with his questions just to piss me off.

"Starsk, will ya go to sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning. You need to rest."

"No, Hutch. I need to talk with ya. Want you to know I'm sorry about the crash. Coulda got you killed." He was working hard at opening his eyes again. His lids seemed like lead and were conspiring against him. I saw a tear squeeze out through the tight slit of his right eye.

I reached to wipe the tear from his face. "Hey, hey, come on buddy. You did great today. So many people weren't hurt today because of your skill behind the wheel. And I'm okay. And you're gonna be okay. So don't worry so much. You really don't need any more frown lines than you already have." And that's when I knew everything really would be all right, because Starsky giggled. He listened to my little speech, he acknowledged what I meant by it, and he moved on. His amazing resilience proven, once again.

The End


End file.
